


Is he, y'know, light on his feet?

by Toixx_nimpark



Category: South Park
Genre: Also my first multiple chapter fic, Alternative Universe - Eighth Grade, Canon-Typical Homophobia, Canon-Typical Racism, Coming Out, F/M, I don't like Randy, I had to look up gay euphemisms for this title, I may add more tags as this fic goes on, Implied Masturbation, Kenny dies a little bit, M/M, My First Work in This Fandom, Stan-centered fic, Teen Romance, but it's only mentioned, so if you need any just hit me up, stan has mild alcoholism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-27
Updated: 2018-10-09
Packaged: 2019-07-18 07:25:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16113635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toixx_nimpark/pseuds/Toixx_nimpark
Summary: Whew, here we go! I want to try my hand at a South Park fic, because I love the show so much. Don't know if I need to say this, but none of these characters belong to me. These chapters are going to flucuate in word count, because I don't want to set up any expectations for myself to write 10,000 words for each chapter. So please bear with me if I only post a few hundred words one chapter and then a few thosand the next!Comments are always appreciated. You can check out my tumblr: toixxx-ace





	1. Fuck Randy

**Author's Note:**

> Whew, here we go! I want to try my hand at a South Park fic, because I love the show so much. Don't know if I need to say this, but none of these characters belong to me. These chapters are going to flucuate in word count, because I don't want to set up any expectations for myself to write 10,000 words for each chapter. So please bear with me if I only post a few hundred words one chapter and then a few thosand the next! 
> 
> Comments are always appreciated. You can check out my tumblr: toixxx-ace

“Sharon, you don’t get it! Gay people are dying every day and we’re the reason why!"

Stan Marsh felt his will to live slowly leaving his body as he turned over his soggy cereal again and again. He was hardly hungry these days. Especially when his stupid dad kept preaching about equal rights every morning at 7am.

Not that he was against gay rights. His own dog was gay. And… So was he. He thought he was, at least. His breakups with Wendy were lasting longer and longer each time, and in their most recent relationship she’s been hinting at taking it up a level.

Stan knew they weren’t ten years old anymore. Eighth grade was a big year, girls were kissing boys, boys kissing girls. Well, besides Craig and Tweek, he supposed. They’ve been together since fourth grade. Just the thought of kissing Wendy made him want to recoil.

Their first school dance was gonna be on Friday, just four days away.Wendy would no doubt be dragging him to countless stores at South Park mall to find the perfect matching suit to go with her dress. And what corsage should she get? Would gold and blue work better than pink and green? It gave Stan a constant migraine.

Speaking of constant migraines, his father paused his rant about how the church treats gay people to drink from his coffee. He nodded towards Stan, making an expression like “You’re getting all this, right?”

“Mom, can I be excused? I’m gonna have to leave now if I want to make it to the bus on time.” Stan politely dropped his spoon into the barely eaten bowl of cereal. When his mother nodded, he jumped out of his chair and bolted towards his bedroom before his dad could continue to berate him for “oppressing the homosexuals, Stanley.”

He slammed his door shut and stood with his back pressed flat against the wood. What did Randy know about the struggles of a gay person? Stan felt all the lethargy enter his bones, giving him even less of a will to leave his room and go to school. Where he’d no doubt face Wendy asking why he didn’t answer her Facetime request last night. And Stan did not want to have to admit to being… preoccupied. Especially since it wasn’t typically what Kenny would call “Jerk Off Material.” Then again, Kenny was pretty proud of telling his friends how he jerked off to hot girls, while Stan’s were definitely not hot  _girls._

Maybe he should talk to Craig and Tweek about his predicament? They were gay, right? They had to have some answers for him. Stan wasn’t that close with either one of them; they were in their own group with Clyde Donovan and Token Black.

Stan groaned and grabbed his backpack, then flushed and felt his stomach churn uncomfortably as he saw the cardboard box with the evidence of his last few questioning nights peeking out from under his bed. He kicked it hard until it hit the wall and walked out of his room.

 

 

“Stop being such a fag, Kinny!” Cartman’s annoying, brash voice invaded Stan’s conscious as he neared the bus stop. His three friends from elementary were all there. The four of them stayed close throughout the years, no matter how many times Kyle said he wanted to pour fire ants in Cartman’s underwear drawer in the middle of the night.

The aforementioned Kenny McCormick was miming sucking a dick, probably calling Cartman’s mom a whore without speaking. He’s done this before- the muffled speaking sometimes just annoys him beyond belief, so he’d rather not say anything than try at all.

Kyle was the only one who immediately noticed Stan nearing them and looked at him, a red curly mess framing the sides of his face from under his green hat. He smiled a little, but it dampened when he saw his best friend’s demeanor. Guilt reared its head in the pit of Stan’s stomach at the thought of spoiling his friends’ moods. “Hey, dude,” he greeted, taking a hand out of his pocket to wave.

Stan responded by saying, “Hey. My mood’s real down today. I had to listen to my fucking dad tell me off for hurting gay people’s feelings.”

“Were you?” Kenny asked, while also grabbing Cartman’s shoulders and trying to kick in his knees.

“Obviously not. He’s just a jerk who hasn’t stopped his whole PC run.”

Kyle slung his arm around Stan’s shoulders and shrugged. “That sucks, man. Do you wanna go dribble a ball around sometime after school?”

Right as he said that, the bus stopped in front of them, doors swinging open. The four boys walked on and found their usual seats at the back of the bus. There were two reasons they always sat there: because Cartman liked to make annoying, racist-ass jokes about it and because he was too fat to fit in the normal seats. Even Kenny, who was the skinniest one out of all of them, would complain about Fatass taking up three-fourths of the normal seats.

Stan sighed. “I don’t think I can. Wendy said she wanted me to go with her to the mall to pick out her dress.”

Cartman gagged himself. “You’re so fucking whipped, man.”

“I thought you guys were off again?” At least Kyle was ignoring Cartman today. Surely, once the fatty mentioned him being Jewish he’d lost his cool, but Stan appreciated the effort.

He said, “No, she texted me saying we should get back together on Saturday. I kind of think it’s just because she wants a date to go to the dance.” He slumped over and let his head rest on Kyle’s shoulder, hoping he could catch a few more winks of sleep.

The next thing he remembered was feeling Kyle nudge him awake with his shoulder. Cartman was already yelling outside the bus, but Kenny was waiting by the bus door. Stan figured he had to hurry since seeing the annoyed look on their bus driver’s face, knowing any second now she’d close it and cut Kenny in half.

They had just gotten off the bus when Stan heard a familiar voice yelling out, “Stan! I need to talk to you!”

Wendy Testaburger. In fifth grade she cut her hair short, to her shoulders, and started wearing eyeliner and lipgloss. It always made him uncomfortable when she asked him what his favorite fruit was before putting it on. She fought hard to be student body president every year, which to some degree, Stan could respect. Wendy was just so cool. Unafraid of what others thought of her. Willing to work herself to death to bring equality to her school and town. It was admirable, and maybe that was why Stan started liking her all those years ago in the first place.

She stopped a few feet away from his group, and Stan walked to meet her there and to give them a bit of privacy.

“Why did you decline my call? You said it was cool to call you, no matter how late or early it is.”

“Sorry, I was really distracted with something. Why? Was it an emergency?” He put special effort into making it seem like he cared. Chances are, she just wanted to know what he was doing.

“Not exactly,” she said, pushing a lock of her hair behind her ear. “I just wanted to tell you that Nichole says she and Token can pick us up in a limousine on Friday. She wanted to know if we can go because she needs to make seating plans and stuff.”

Even though the way she said it was like a suggestion, she had that puppy dog look in her eyes that confirmed that this was non-negotiable. Stan _was_ going to be driven to his first dance in a limousine.

“Yeah. That sounds cool. Totally. Thanks, Wendy.”

After a few short moments the first bell rang, and everyone started shuffling out of the cold and into the (also cold because the principal doesn’t want to waste money on heaters) school. Stan’s first period was English with Mr. Braly, this older guy who slurred all of his sentences. Not because he was drunk, at least Stan didn’t think it was because of that.

Fuck. That reminded him. He ran out of the whiskey he kept in his underwear drawer. Maybe that’s why he felt so off on this particular day.

He sat down at his desk, near the window, and looked out while Braly took attendance. There was no way he’d be able to ask Tweek or Craig about being gay until lunch. Four hours. Four hours of slow torture. On the bright side, Wendy wasn’t in this class. But Cartman was, so he wasn’t exempt from being annoyed.

Today that fat boy’s latest thing was making snide comments about Mr. Braly’s toupee while he was facing the board. Stan sighed and kept his gaze on the flagpole outside, where he saw someone’s underwear (probably Butters’) tied to the top.


	2. Does Stan Marsh is gay?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first two chapters of this fic were nearly finished when I first decided to post this. As of now, I am currently working on the next few chapters, and this fic is very experimental. I don't know how it's going to end, and consequently, some things are not set in stone. After I finish it, I may go back and redo it, editing everything and adding some finality to it. Please don't expect every chapter to come within days of the other, even though this may be the case.

Stan grimaced at the smell of school lunch as he entered the cafeteria. Even _if_   he didn't eat any meat, the options for lunch at his school were very limited. The most he could get was a shitty salad or a bean burrito. Both of which were usually very soggy and tasted like human skin. 

His friends were already sitting at their center table, and he smiled when he saw Kenny stealing fries off of Cartman’s lunch tray.

Sometimes Craig’s group sat at their table, and if they didn’t then it was a few tables down. Craig Tucker hated Cartman. It’s been so long, that Stan doesn’t really remember why. If there even was a reason; Craig was the type of guy to take one look at you and despise you immediately. This weird rivalry between Craig and Cartman is one of the reasons why he stuck to the walls of the cafeteria to sneak away to Craig’s table without being seen.

The dark haired teen was sharing a bag of Chex mix with his boyfriend, Tweek. Tweek’s head rested on his shoulder, twitching along with his shoulders and left hand every so often. Stan frowned when he remembered the third day of school, and he walked into the boys’ bathroom only to have to bring Tweek down from a panic attack because someone kept making fun of his anxiety-induced tics. He had done his best, but in the end he had to text Craig about the situation and just stayed with him until he arrived.

Neither of them saw him first. It was Token who froze mid-bite of his sandwich and ask, “What are you doing here, Stan?”

“I need to speak. To Craig. Or Tweek. Or both, honestly.”

Craig sighed, grabbing Tweek’s hand and pulling him up off his seat. “Come on, honey. We’re needed.”

These two, luckily, understood the need for secrecy. Stan would definitely get shit from Cartman for talking with them, and Kyle and Kenny would ask too many questions. The trio stopped just outside of the cafeteria doors, next to a bulletin board pinned with upcoming events.

“What seems to be the issue?” Usually Stan would be intimidated by such a monotonous voice, but coming from Craig it was relaxing. 

Stan took a deep breath, the air filling his lungs, and then he breathed out slowly. That's what the school counselor always said to do first to try and get rid of nerves. 

“I think… I think I’m gay.”

Tweek inhaled sharply, and he straightened his posture. Clearly this was unexpected. Even Craig’s eyes widened slightly before he got a scrutinizing gaze.

“You serious?” He asked.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Stan smiled nervously, feeling more insecure about this discussion as the seconds ticked by.

“You would not believe how many people tried being gay just to be popular. Remember fourth grade? That’s still a thing, apparently!”

Stan could see Craig progressively getting more annoyed with what he was saying, and then saw it dissipate when Tweek held onto his upper arm. It was crazy how fast they affected one another. Something about the interaction made Stan’s chest hurt.

“Anyway- AHH- why are you telling us this, Stan?” Tweek blinked sporadically and twitched.

A flush covered his face, and he felt the heat rise all the way down his neck as well. “Uh, I was just wondering… How did you guys know you were gay?” He sighed and looked down at his feet. “I’m just kind of confused.”

Craig looked him up and down. “Do you want to fuck guys?” Tweek elbowed him, and he called out, “What?”  

“You can’t just ask someone that!”

The usually apathetic teen smirked at his boyfriend’s concern and rolled his eyes. Tweek ignored him in favor of answering Stan’s question.

“Well, for me, I never really liked girls. Even when they photoshopped themselves back when we were kids, it was more of just a shock to see them so different than any actual attraction.”

Stan nodded. “What about you, Craig?”

He shrugged. “Kind of the same for me. I thought they looked hot, but I didn’t want to be in a relationship with any of them. And… when I was younger, I was real insecure. I said some things to Tweek that weren’t true because I was scared of being gay.” Stan saw a light flush spread across his pale skin. “Obviously, we’ve talked through stuff like that. I think it’s a lot easier to talk to him because he’s a guy and because we’ve been friends for a very long time.”

Wow. That was more information about their relationship that Stan had ever known, and they still didn’t really answer his question. He sighed and nodded.

“Thanks guys. I appreciate your help,” he muttered under his breath, quickly turning away to sit down at his lunch table. God knows his friends probably thought he was being kidnapped or dead by now.

Tweek and Craig didn’t follow him into the cafeteria, which he respected them for. Again, discreetness was their specialty. Cartman had five dollars crumpled in his fist, and Kenny was slurping up a mysterious gray drink in a clear plastic cup, his orange hood flying off with how forcefully he threw his head back. Kyle had a disgusted, but not surprised, expression on his face.

Stan slid onto the empty seat next to him and watched as Kenny finished off the gray sludge and slapped his hand against his mouth so he couldn’t throw it back up again.

“You’re so fucking nasty, Kenny.” Kyle looked like he was seconds away from throwing up himself.

After a few minutes, Kenny removed his hand and opened his mouth wide, like he was a magician. All the gray liquid was gone, and Cartman begrudgingly gave him his money.

“Was it worth the cash?” Stan asked, and Cartman jumped.

“Holy shit, dude! I didn’t even notice you; have you been taking sneaking around lessons from Token or something?”

Stan ignored him. The fat teen was so two-faced: he only acted this racist until he was actually talking to Token, then his racism was more subtle

Kenny looked at him, his face fully uncovered by his hood. He was probably the tannest out of all the people in their group because of all the jobs he’d had in the past. Random scars littered his face, ones Stan never asked him about. He didn’t know where they came from, but if he thought hard enough on Kenny’s home life, he didn’t think he really needed to ask. On his upper lip, he was starting to grow a little mustache.

“Totally, dude. Once I got past the initial fishy taste, it went down really easily!”

Kyle gagged. “You all need Jesus. I’m gonna head to my math class. I need to talk to Mrs. Teets about her last test.” He paused to look at Stan. “You coming?” 

His empty stomach protested, after missing lunch and barely eating breakfast. However, he ignored it in favor of following Kyle to their next, shared, math class.  

As he walked out of the cafeteria and into the halls with his super best friend by his side, a flier on a bulletin board caught his eye. It was big and rainbow, pinned right in the middle. Right next to the “Food for America” sign and Cartman’s old “Prevent My Suicide” poster from a few years back.

_Join the GSA- Gay Straight Alliance! Meetings on Mondays and Wednesdays after school at 3:00_

It sounded too good to be true. A club where, if he joined, nobody would know if he was gay or straight? And he could still be involved and ask questions without it seeming too suspicious? A part of him was annoyed that neither Tweek nor Craig told him about this, but then he remembered that if there were any gay people who weren’t fit to join a GSA, it was them.

And if Cartman, Kyle, or Kenny asked, he could just say Wendy wanted him to join a cause.

It really did seem like the perfect idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading this chapter! Comments are very much appreciated! :)


	3. Harrison? You're here too?

His fork scraped across the ceramic plate, twirling around his spaghetti but not eating it. Stan sat with his hand holding his chin. It wasn’t often that his family ate together, but when they did, it was just as aggravatingly painful as the last. He didn’t know how families did this _every day_.

“Stanley don’t play with your food, eat it!” His mother chastised him. Sometimes he thought that his mom actually liked to scold him and embarrass him in front of all his friends.

Randy Marsh looked at him, then awkwardly tried to make conversation. “So… how was school?”

“Well I didn’t get shot, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“Stanley! School shootings are no laughing matter!”

Shelly snickered, and then went back to craning her head around so she could see the tv from her seat.

“Did you join any clubs?” Randy asked, ignoring his wife’s antics and taking a bite from his garlic bread.

Stan froze. An image of the GSA poster flushed into his mind. “Uh, I was thinking about it.” He pushed around his spaghetti more fervently. “Wendy wanted me to join a club because she said it would look good to colleges.”

His mother smiled at him. “What club would that be?”

God, he hated the gurgling in his stomach. Every time he got nervous, mostly around someone he liked, he got that pit feeling in his stomach. The first sign of his lunch, dinner, or breakfast threatening to make a second appearance. It was so embarrassing to speak to your crush, let alone projectile vomit on them.

“The GSA…” Stan murmured.

Shelly whipped her head towards him and squinted, seemingly analyzing him. Stan gives her a sibling Look. In response, she gives him a quick nod and goes back to her show. As much as they hated each other, even the Marsh siblings were able to have their own unspoken language.

“Oh!” His mom looked genuinely concerned, and it kind of offended Stan. “You know, we support whatever you want, Stan, but I thought you wanted to join your school’s football team?"

“Sharon,” Randy suddenly interrupted, looking more emotional than a few moments before. He stood up at the table, looking intensely into Stan’s eyes. “If our son wants to be a good American and support the gays, then we have to do all we can to make sure that happens.”

Stan groaned and his his face in his arms, pushing his dinner back. Why did he even tell his parents anything?

“I’m going to my room!” He forced out between his teeth, leaving the dining table and rushing up to his room.

With everything that happened today, he felt the best way to end it was to drink himself asleep.  


 

 

Wednesday afternoon came by too quickly. Stan didn’t even have enough time to convince himself not to go! Which Kyle, if he knew about this, would say is a good thing. Probably a good thing he wasn’t here. For many reasons.

He had to look at the poster again to find the classroom, room 502, and that’s where he stood after school. It was already 3:05. The club activities had started by now.

 _I can’t do this,_ he thought, feeling more self-loathing than he had in weeks.  He’d heard horror stories of men in marriages with kids who would sneak around to gay clubs and break their family’s trust. Stan didn’t want that to be him. He didn’t want to be thirty years old, married to Wendy Testaburger, cheating on her every Friday with any random guy.

He was so distracted by his own thoughts that he didn’t even notice the door opening wide, and a boy rushing out. Well, he noticed when they bumped into each other.

Stan fell to the ground, landing on his backpack, and the boy landed on top of him. He groaned from the impact and then looked up at the irresponsible asshole who couldn’t just look before he ran people ove-

_Oh._

“Stan?”

Jesus, it’d been years since he heard that voice.

“Gary Harrison?”

He didn’t look all that different than in fourth grade. His blond hair was parted and neat, voluminously flipping upwards. The first few buttons of his blue button up were open, and if Stan tried hard enough, he could probably peek down his shirt.

Gary stood up, and then held out his hand. “Long time no see. Need a hand?”

Stan felt his cheeks heat up and grumbled a thank you while looking down towards the ground. He took Gary’s hand. His was considerably more clammy than the one he was holding.

When they were both fully stood on the bottoms of their feet, Stan realized something. Gary was coming out of the GSA club room. Was he…

“What were you doing here?” Gary asked first, beating Stan to it.

“Um, I was thinking of joining, actually. My girlfriend said it’d be a good idea.”

Gary seemed shocked, then blushed bright red. “Right! Yeah, that makes sense… I was just heading out to get extra paper. Just tell the club leader you’re gonna join and sit down anywhere.”

And with that the taller teen sped past him and down the hall. Stan let his eyes follow him until he disappeared behind a corner, and then went inside the classroom.

There were less people than he thought there would be. A boy with big puffy blond hair was sitting on the empty teacher’s desk, laughing at something that was being written on the board. A girl was the one writing on the board, and from what Stan could see, it was a drawing of one of the school’s most hated teachers choking on a dick.

Jenny Simons’ best friend, Lola, was in her cheerleader get-up and talking to some people who Stan didn’t know. Bradley Biggle was also there, in the back of the room, concentrating on a math packet. He had no clue who was there because they were straight and who was there because they were gay. It was perfect.

Stan decided Lola was his best hope for getting any information about this club. She looked up at him once he entered her vicinity.

“Oh, hey Stan. Mr. McCall is gone for the day. It’s our club hours.”

“I know that. I was wondering if I could, um,” Stan paused, suddenly feeling his nerves spike. “If I could join?”

She smiled wide. “Sure! The leader is Bradley.”

“Bradley Biggle?” Stan asked, looking towards the back of the class, where the kid was hunched over his math work.

“No,” she laughed. “His name is Bradley Joachim. He started the club last year.”

“Where can I find him?”

Instead of verbally answering, she pointed to the blond kid laughing at the other girl’s drawing. Bradley Joachim. His name sounded familiar, but he couldn’t remember where. Maybe from tv? Was he in any commercials like Gary was?

Stan joined the two by the board. The girl was adding hair to the balls in her drawing, too preoccupied to notice him. Bradley, however, spotted him immediately. He stood up dramatically, eyes locked onto Stan’s.

“Hi. What’s up?” He sounded awkward. Like he didn’t know what Stan’s deal was.

“I wanted to join your club.” You know, the more he said it the easier he could. Weird. “So… can I?”

Bradley nodded. “Sure! We don’t have many rules here. One of the biggest is that nobody has to tell you why they’re here. It’s supposed to protect them if they have unaccepting parents.” He suddenly looked forlorn. “I’m gay, and I was sent to a conversion camp for years. It really fucked me up. I almost committed suicide over it, but someone convinced me to live.”

Stan’s eyes widened. So _that’s_ where he knew him from. There was a news story on him and what happened.

The blond teen smiled. “I don’t want anything like that to anyone else, so I created this club to provide a support system for people like me. Or just for people who need it.”    

He didn’t know how to respond to that without outing himself. With as much courage as he could muster, he said, “Wendy Testaburger wanted me to join this club.” Like he was completely mindless and just did everything his girlfriend told him to do.

Bradley looked at him oddly, but the classroom door opened once again before he could say anything. Gary walked inside in a rush. Was he gay? Stan frowned. Weren’t gay people supposed to have a gaydar or something? Shouldn’t he be able to tell? Could Bradley tell?

Maybe being gay was just like some sort of video game, and he had to level up to unlock more abilities.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still a little undecided on who Stan should end up with! If you want to help pick the outcome for this fic, please go onto my tumblr and answer the poll I have set up there. My tumblr is toixxx-ace.  
> And I looked for Bradley's last name, but I couldn't find it, so I just looked up "catholic last names" and picked one. 
> 
> Comments are always welcomed!


	4. But $20 is $20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who voted! I really appreciate it. :)
> 
> This chapter is VERY Kenny-centric, mostly because I love imagining Kenny's future family life. Sometimes it's really nice and it's about his parents sobering up and stuff, but this time I wanted it to be pretty angsty. This isn't entirely central to the plot as of right now, but based on the voting (which is still up! You can vote right now on my poll!) it could be important as to how this fic ends.

Later that night, after Stan was completely covered in his blankets with half a bottle of beer close to his chest, something at his bedroom window tapped it.

It was annoying, but especially so in Stan’s buzzed mind. He groaned and sat up. Then he had to pause and reorientation himself when the quick movement made his head spin. The tapping was incessant.

One quick look to the window and he could immediately place the source. A blurry orange figure sat on the ledge, his knuckles moving every second against the clear pane.

 _Shit, he must be freezing!_ Stan hurried out of his bed, his drink falling to the floor.

The owner to the orange parka didn’t even have the time to notice before Stan threw up the window and tugged him inside by his collar. Kenny McCormick tumbled inside, landing on him. Jesus, was he just becoming everyone’s goddamn life net?

“Dude! What were you doing out there? Do you want to die or something?” There was no way Kenny couldn’t hear the slur in his words, and if he did, then he ignored it dutifully.

“Not like you’ve cared before,” he muttered, sitting up with his knees close to his body. He sighed, and then said in a louder voice, “Our heater got shut off. Karen is spending the night at Red’s, and my parents are too drugged up to notice the cold. I couldn’t go to Kyle’s because he’s cranky when he’s tired and I couldn’t go to Cartman’s because he’d beat me up for interrupting his beauty sleep.”

Stan’s face crumpled. As much as he hated his family sometimes, at least his parents made sure their kids didn’t starve or freeze to death. One of the only times Stan could remember the McCormicks actually showing care for their middle son was when he had died of a chronic disease.

He still felt bad that the boy had to stay in Fatass’ body until they found his.

“You can stay at my place,” Stan responded, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “Do you need a spare change of pajamas? A shower?”

At that Kenny snickered. “Man, just smell me. Obviously I need a shower.”

Stan laughed and stood up, helping Kenny stand as well. “It’s all yours. Just try not to wake up my sister or parents.”

“Discretion is key!”

While he was gone, the dark haired teen went through his drawers for pajamas that wouldn’t be too big on Kenny’s thin frame. He wasn’t inebriated enough to be completely stupid, but if he walked too fast or made too sharp a turn he’d feel a little barfy.

He left the clothes on his bed and snuck downstairs, taking a sharp right into the kitchen. It wasn’t often that he thought about if Kenny had eaten or not, but when the thought did cross his mind, he became almost obsessive with it. He knew what it was like to lose him without showing how much he cared for him, and he’d be damned if he let it happen again.

In the end, Stan took up a slice of leftover lasagna that he warmed up in the microwave, a glass of milk, and a multivitamin. Even though nobody in their friend group really talked about it, it was kind of known that Kenny struggled with substance abuse. Of course, it didn’t help that he was constantly breathing in meth smoke and had people living in his garage who snorted coke on a daily basis.

Sometimes his use would bring him to the brink of death, which happened late in seventh grade. Kyle and Stan had to take turns making sure he was away from drugs, and wasn’t showing any 911-worthy signs. Eventually, he got better enough to make somewhat clear-headed decisions, and they let him be. But now, whenever they got the chance, they both made sure he’s had a vitamin or two, some water, and some sort of food.

Kenny was sitting on Stan’s bed when he entered his bedroom, folding up his previous clothes and placing them on his floor. There weren’t any new scars on his forearm that would signify him injecting at all, and Stan calmed down a little.  

“So what were you doing before I came over? Jacking off?” Kenny asked, taking a huge bite of lasagna. The entire topic made Stan recoil

“Dude, why don’t we save masturbation talk for when you don’t have a mouthful of chewed up pasta and tomato sauce?”

He laughed and one of his hands shot up to cover his open mouth.

Stan smiled. Then, like the flip of a switch, he remembered a bunch of rumors from sixth grade. Someone starting talking about how they saw Kenny blowing a guy and then getting paid afterwards. The group never talked about it, and Kenny never said if the rumors were true or not…

 _Well, now’s as good of a time as any to ask him about it_ , Stan thought.

“Hey, uh, Ken?” He asked, averting his eyes away from his friend.

“Yeah, buddy?”

“Have you ever, I don’t know…” Stan cleared his throat, stalling time. “Have you ever kissed a guy? Like forreal?”

A silence. Pregnant enough to earn a role on Teen Mom. Kenny set the plate down on his lap and sighed.

“I mean, yeah. Kind of? I’ve done a lot for a few extra bucks. If you know what I mean,” he nudged Stan’s arm playfully, probably trying to lift the heavy mood.

Stan’s eyes widened. “Have you fucked-”

Before he could finish his question, Kenny put a hand against his mouth and interrupted with a, “I’ve done a lot. Some things I didn’t enjoy, and I doubt God will ever let me through his pearly white gates now, but twenty dollars is twenty dollars.”

He shrugged nonchalantly, but Stan was shocked. One of his best friends had more experience with being gay than he did, and this was the same guy who would scream about how much he loves tits at age nine in the middle of class.

“Anywaaays,” Kenny sung, setting down his plate of food on Stan’s bedside table. “Can we go to bed now? I need some shuteye!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Comments are ALWAYS appreciated and encouraged!


End file.
